


Shadows

by afterandalasia



Category: Aladdin (1992)
Genre: Biting, Community: disney_kink, Consensual Sex, F/M, Frustration, Hate Sex, Rough Sex, Scratching
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-19
Updated: 2013-11-19
Packaged: 2018-05-30 18:28:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 539
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6435604
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/afterandalasia/pseuds/afterandalasia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jasmine finds an outlet for her anger, and for her desires.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Shadows

**Author's Note:**

  * For [blushingharpy](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=blushingharpy).



> From the [prompt](http://disney-kink.livejournal.com/9516.html?thread=5826348#t5826348) on Disney Kink, asking for rough sex with any level of consent.

Her nails leave red lines on his skin, vivid against the tan; her teeth stain him with bruises, here and there the dark mark of blood. She hates him; she desires him; no other would dare fight her like this, give her the challenge that she desires.  
  
She struggles when he pins her to the wall, when he forces his lips to hers, when his hands lock around her wrists. But he will never bruise her, never leave a mark, never leave a risk that someone might see the evidence of what they do. It infuriates her until she tries to scream, but his hand clamps over her mouth, or he presses her down into the silken pillows of her bed, to muffle her. Sometimes it feels good to release her anger.  
  
Today, another pampered prince with his foppish ways and self-absorption has tried to woo her. Or not even that: tried to claim her, as if he need only write his name on some line of a contract to take her as his. They would never work for her, let alone fight.  
  
"Tonight," she murmurs to Jafar as she passes him in the corridor, and does not stop to see if he smirks. It does not matter.  
  
He will fight. He pulls her hair to tilt her head back so that he can suck on her throat; he wrestles her down to the floor to remove her harem pants. She punches his chest, scratches his arms, even slaps away his cock as he first tries to enter her. In return he squeezes her breasts until her nipples are so hard that he aches, and fucks her until she has bruises on her thighs to remember him by. She tears his robes; he throws her onto her bed and gives her no warning before his fingers force themself into her ass.  
  
She cries out against the sheets; it might be his name, might be wordless. But it will not be asking him to stop, he knows that. They both know it. So he fucks her, slow at first to let her feel the edge of pain alongside the overwhelming fullness of pleasure. He builds his pace, and between them they hold the pretense that this is for his pleasure while Jasmine is the one screaming, pounding her fists on the bed as his fingers leave bruises on the cheeks of her ass.  
  
It does not matter how many times she comes, her body shaking, eyes glassy and dark and focused on some distant thing that Jafar does not ask about. Always she will round on him as he finishes, slap his face where the bruises will be hidden by his beard, sneer at him that he is useless and order him to leave.  
  
Both ways he desires her: angry and vicious; desperate and begging. And though neither of them will say it, they both know that she needs this, a place to inflict the pain a princess should not desire to inflict, a place to lust as a princess should not lust. They hide their bruises beneath their clothes and their desire beneath their anger, and only in the shadow of the night do their bodies find each other.


End file.
